


Then and now

by Glittergalaxy_Senpai



Series: Melkor/Mairon translations || Lalann [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, M/M, Seduction to the Dark Side, Translation, a tiny bit of caring Melkor, a tiny bit of well-written fluff towards the end, injured Mairon-Sauron (however you want to call him), uke-ish Mairon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6822895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glittergalaxy_Senpai/pseuds/Glittergalaxy_Senpai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ere his foul spirit left its dark house, Lúthien came to him, ghost be sent quaking back to Morgoth; and she said: 'There everlastingly thy naked self shall endure the torment of his scorn, pierced by his eyes, unless thou yield to me the mastery of thy tower.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then and now

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Тогда и сейчас](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/203101) by Lalann. 



> Ah, another work from Lalann about the lost of Tol Sirion. I must admit I enjoy translating her works a lot xD  
> Now all of her Melkor/Mairon works would be translated in this series, okay? :3 There is another one coming soon, with a bit bigger perspective of the flashback Sauron had. 
> 
> Characters are again inspired by Phobs' earliest concepts (the blond, more feminine looking Mairon with the piles of rings on his fingers).  
> Tbh I'm not a fan of the version of seducing Mairon to the dark side with, erm, ya know, some NSFW stuff, but luckily for me there was an interesting back story to it.  
> Also, I feel like I pretty much screwed up a beautiful smut scene  
> Also [2], in Russian people can (and use) both "lord" and "master" to describe Melkor in various fanfictions, so I just kept both as they were. It's probably due to the fact that each of those words has only one meaning. /time for unnecessary Russian facts/ 
> 
> Please enjoy and leave your reviews. ❤

He can almost feel his Master's anger on his own skin - just like standing closely to a raging flame. It is silent, and thus, it makes it even worse.

Melkor looks shortly and angrily at his most loyal, yet now so weak and useless servant, and swings his hand.

And from what seemed like a rather slack strike Sauron falls down on the stone floor. With his fading gaze he searches for an answer - and explanation? - in Melkor's eyes; he wants to say something, but only blood bubbles upon his lip and terrible, warm pain binds his chest.

"And here is, my apprentice, the One who instills Horror", thinks Melkor with disgust and orders his servants to take the weakened Maia away. He turns back to his throne and doesn't see - or, maybe, doesn't want to see - how Sauron won't let the ugly orcs touch him; how he hardly gets up and, trying not to stagger from weakness and keeping his head as high as possible for his condition, walks away and heads to the dungeons.

There, he falls on the warm earthy ground, wrapped in feverish oblivion.

 

Melkor sees and hears everything that happens in Angband, but right now he gloomily thinks it would have been better if he knew (it would have been better to know?) how to get his Silmaril back. Gorthaur lies in the dungeons for the fourth day now and he hasn't recover yet - he would have raved all this time, perhaps, if only the nasty hound didn't damaged his ligaments. Sauron is useless and weak, and Morgoth can't quite tell whether it troubles or annoys him. All at once, mixed with anger and disappointment.

But by the end of the fourth day it seems to trouble more than it annoys, and therewith a comes a strange feeling of uncertainty - like a claw that is just about to starch his heart - and he thinks: what if? What if Sauron won't recover? What if his wound won't heal unless something is done?  
His anger fades slowly, soon replaced by such unusual concern, but it doesn't make it any better.

 

Sauron lies in the dungeons motionless, and visions and memories are slowly passing before his closed eyes.  
Isn't that the beginning of Arda that he sees? The time when he had a different name and served not his master, but Aulё the Smith? Back then he was a diligent and talented apprentice, and his thoughts were bright and so stupidly perfect; and it made him happy when master Aulё would compliment him - during that time his smile seemed to Mairon like the most beautiful thing in the world.  
Ah, how overwhelmed with delight he was when he first saw the spring in Arda! How carefully he watched the birth of a new world! Each and every day was like a feast, for the cause of joy was simply the mere existence.  
This pure and peaceful joy soon came to an end.  
The was a whisper, they say, making him lost his mind whenever he got a little distracted. And so, Mairon kept working in the forges - first helping his master and afterwards, during the short rest hours, he would try to create something of his own. Aulё would then ask him with such a parental care whether everything was alright, and Mairon would answer - yes, but not quite; there was so much work to be done and it had to be done quickly. His master would kindly laugh at his words, sometimes even stroking Mairon's golden hair with his strong, big hand. He was probably incredibly happy to see such diligence.

Days passed after days, but the whisper never disappeared. It kept talking and talking, slowly and irreversibly reshaping Mairon's enthusiastic thoughts in a completely different way; and soon compliments from his master weren't as joyful as before, nor the results of his hard work, and deep inside he wanted to be so much more than a simple apprentice in the forges. Bitter irritation became a usual feeling for him, just around the time when he first met his Lord.

He was so strange, so different from the other Valar, so dark and gloomy; and for Mairon, who was greedy for new impressions, he was perfect. Back then in the beginning of time he couldn't quite tell good and bad apart, couldn't divide the world to black and white - and it surprised him he has never seen Melkor before.

Such a naive fool he was, still doubting if he should leave master Aulё.

Melkor was never in a rush: he was patient and polite with the young Maia. More and more often, after finishing his chores, Mairon would leave the forges and went as far as he could, hoping to find Melkor. Aulё laughed; he was simple-minded and believed that such a young creature got bored from spending all of his time in the forges and wanted to discover more from the newborn Arda. He let his apprentice go, never asking where or to whom. 

And he was right, partly. Melkor appeared rarely, and whenever he didn't come Mairon, truly, would (and with big curiosity) go and see all new and unknown that was in Arda.

But when he did, the Admirable didn't care about Arda at all. Melkor seduced him slowly and carefully, getting incomparable pleasure from the process. He liked the restless and talented Mairon, who was also spontaneous and enthusiastic, and some times rather capricious and other times unbalanced and fickle, and yet so, so charming. He was charming in this warm, golden beauty of his, and Melkor could spend hours (or days, or weeks - there was more than enough time) watching how the thoughtful expression of his amber eyes changes, how fast his wrists would move when he was gesticulating fiercely (there were no massive rings on his fingers then), and how beautifully his long hair (that seemed to be woven from pure gold) falls on his shoulders.

Melkor looked, and his gaze would make Mairon blush. The Vala smiled greedily, knowing that it won't be too long until a gaze wouldn't be the only thing to make him blush this way.

For the Maia, Melkor was pure perfection. His might, his words, his harsh attitude and cold eyes: it was enthralling. Sometimes he would shudder from a simple, careless touch or his shoulder or wrist, and such sensitivity only amused Melkor and made him laugh.

The darkness in Mairon kept growing, but Aulё was too busy working to actually notice. After a while the Maia became completely fed up with all the work in the forges . "What's the point of forging the same over and over again?" He thought with irritation, and the time he spent helping his master only bored and annoyed him. Melkor came as rare as always, and out of boredom Mairon began (first as a way to entertain himself, nothing but a joke; but later it became much more) to forge various small trinkets, which were rather pretty to look at than useful and helped him pass the time. He forged his ever first ring: big and wide, decorated with a piece of amber. It wasn't well forged, though, but nevertheless it made him as happy as a small child. He would spend hours examining it and wondered how incomparably beautiful such a simple stone can become if to be put in a simple silver frame.

He wore this ring when Melkor took him to Utumno. Without asking or warning, without answering his questions or noticing his confused face expression; just took him by the hand and led him. He smiled greedily as always, looking forward for his coming pleasure and for how surprised the Bright Valar will be. 

Mairon thought that perhaps his absence might upset master Aulё (only if he will notice it, of course), but it didn't matter anymore.

In the dark and cold fortress of Utumno Mairon didn't dare to resist when Melkor's strong hands ripped off his white and golden robe; just blushed, his breath short and ragged. He wasn't scared at all, mainly curious, and yet his cheeks flushed crimson and he couldn't stop shivering. Obeying the will of stranger's hands on his body, Mairon slightly shuddered from kisses that seemed light and gentle at first, but soon became rough and demanding. Melkor couldn't and didn't want to be gentle, but he didn't hurry either and let Mairon to get used to him.

Mairon moaned quietly, closing his eyes and arching his back, and threw his head back to expose his neck - and ah! With such delight then did Melkor left a trail of kisses and bites there! Mairon panted and covered his mouth with his hands, trying to make as less noise as he could. He thought it might annoy his Master. But the Dark Vala found such naivety rather amusing and he carefully held the Maia's hands behind his back, enjoying the blush covering Mairon's face and his shame that he tried so hard to hide. And when Mairon sobbed, still surprised and trying to hug Melkor, he wasn't pushed away.

 

Gorthaur wakes up to the sound of heavy footsteps. And while still being on the thin boundary between heavy sleep and painful awakening, it is so hard to tell - was it his Lord who's coming or just the Orcs who walk so clumsily through the halls? He doesn't feel pain anymore, and with his dull glance he looks at the ceiling and cannot understand for how long he has stayed here. Sauron lies down, fearing the upcoming pain. He feels so tired and worthless and thinks that he shouldn't have opened his eyes at all.

But his Lord comes in and Gorthaur tries to at least sit, but not speak: he doesn't want to damage his badly healing throat.

"Lie still. I know you are glad to see me."

And Sauron obediently does it, turning his head to his Lord. It seems like he is not angry anymore: he sits down to him and runs his fingers trough his golden hair, and caresses his cheek, still terribly warm from fever, and finally stops by his neck. Melkor's touch is gently careful and so pleasant, that the Maia even allows himself to close his eyes and enjoy this moment of pure pleasure.

"Do you feel better?"

His Master's words are quick and short, but there is no anger in them, and Gorthaur calms down and nods weakly.

"I found a mortal man near the mines. He was a healer long ago, so I asked him to take care of you. He did his job as best as he could, but demanded my word: after he is done, he said, he wants to return to his family. And I agreed."

Sauron puts his head on his Lord's knees and curiously look into his eyes. He is not scared anymore, and his glance isn't dull and wandering - it glistens like molted gold.

"And oh, he had to deal with you for a while. You were feverish and tried to rave, but couldn't talk at all... Quite a funny view. That mortal had to sit with you for almost three days until you finally stopped coughing blood. And then it seemed like you felt better. It's hard to tell why, but perhaps you've simply recovered by that time. I told him to go and he demanded his payment..."

Melkor pauses to give Sauron a harsh, almost blaming look, silently scolding for all those troubles. His hand messes Sauron's bright hair before gently touching his bandaged neck, and there is no pain felt from it.

"So I sent him there, to his wife and children. He didn't seem to complain."

Sauron smiles for a moment and tries to get up. Melkor lifts him up quickly, one hand holding his shoulders, and kisses him firmly and roughly as always. And as he never closes his eyes while doing so, he is a bit surprised to see the sudden blush covering Sauron's face from such a simple kiss.


End file.
